


Lonely at the Top

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Apologies, Friendship, Gen, King's Own, Leadership, Misjudgements, Mistakes, command, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 02:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14070834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Dom learns that command is lonely sometimes.





	Lonely at the Top

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the line in Squire where Raoul says that Dom and Symric know it was a mistake to promote Symric.

Lonely at the Top 

The other sergeants had filed out of the command tent, leaving Dom alone with Lord Raoul, which meant that the awkward moment of apology had arrived. It was tempting not to humble himself to apologizing, but good leaders took responsibility for their failures—their mistakes and their misjudgments—even more than their dazzling successes and brilliant strategies. 

“I’m sorry about Symric, sir.” Dom would have preferred to stare down a giant armed only with a sling and stone like a shepherd protecting his flock from prowling wolves than meet Lord Raoul’s beetle eyes as he admitted his folly. 

“Is that your way of warning me that Symric slipped frogs into my bed roll again?” Lord Raoul arched an eyebrow. 

“No, sir.” To Dom’s knowledge, Symric hadn’t snuck any amphibians into Lord Raoul’s bed roll, though, of course, he would never have reported such information if he had it. That was against the soldiers’ code of honor, a betrayal of a comrade-in-arms. “You forcing him to eat the legs of the frogs he hid in your bed roll last time broke him of that bad habit.” 

“I’m happy to hear that my creative punishments are having their desired effects.” Content as a kitten in his deviousness, Lord Raoul leaned back in his chair, perching it precariously on two legs. “I shall sleep easier in my bed roll at night, but if you weren’t apologizing for a Symric prank, what were you saying sorry for, Dom?” 

“I should never have promoted him to corporal.” Dom forced himself to fix his gaze on Lord Raoul’s when he wanted to melt into the ground like morning dew. “He’s not cut out to be a corporal. He’s a perfect soldier but that doesn’t make him fit to lead men into battle. Even he knows that and it shows in how he speaks to the squad.” 

“So you realize now it was wrong to promote him.” Lord Raoul’s comment was gentle, not accusatory, and Dom couldn’t be anything less than honest about the scope of his error. 

“No, sir.” Dom took a deep breath to steel himself—because while it was bad not to foresee a problem, it was worse to predict it and stumble into it anyway—before continuing, “I knew it was a mistake to promote him before I did it.” 

“Then why in the name of Mithros did you promote him?” demanded Lord Raoul. He didn’t raise his voice but Dom could hear his displeasure. 

That was a question with no right answer, Dom thought, probably designed to emphasize the fact that any response he offered would be feeble as a newborn lamb. 

“He’s served in the Own for a long time—far more years than me—and men expect that those who don’t disgrace themselves completely will be rewarded with some small rank eventually.” Dom bit his lip, tasting blood and shame. “People already grumble that I haven’t paid my dues and I’m climbing too quickly. What would they say if I didn’t promote Symric?” 

“A commander should be aware of what his men say, but he shouldn’t let their whispers control him.” Lord Raoul shook Dom’s shoulder, the sharp gesture communicating more disappointment than anger, but Lord Raoul’s disappointment was worse than his anger. “Worry about what people might whisper is never a compelling reason to do or fail to do something, Dom.” 

“Yes, sir.” Dom wished he could explain that it was hard for him to risk the dislike of others—he thrived upon being popular among everything—but that would sound pathetic even to his own burning ears. 

Perhaps Lord Raoul could read his mind as if it were an unfurled scroll because he squeezed Dom’s shoulders before releasing them. “Command isn’t a popularity contest. Every commander worth his chops will have to make some decisions and issue some orders that are about as beloved as lung rot among his men. If you’re to lead, you must accept that and not try to take the path of least resistance, which will only cause more nightmares for you and those you command in the long run.” 

“I imagined I would make life easier if I promoted Symric but instead I made it hard for him, for me, and for the entire squad.” Dom massaged his temples that ached under the weight of his miscalculation. “I’m sorry that I put him in a position where he can’t succeed—a good sergeant shouldn’t do that—and that the rest of my men are endangered by a corporal who can’t lead. I wish I could apologize to them, but I know I can’t. If I apologize to Symric, he’ll have proof that I don’t have faith in him to lead, and if I apologize to the rest of the squad, they’ll doubt Symric and me.” 

“Command is lonely sometimes.” Lord Raoul clapped him on the back. “That’s why few men are cut out for it. You might be young, Dom, if we can cure you of your hopeless need for approval.”

“I’ll do better in the future, I promise, sir.” It was difficult for Dom to choke out the words when Lord Raoul, despite his dreadful blunder, was expressing confidence in him. 

“I believe you will.” Lord Raoul smiled slightly. “When you do, keep in mind that every commander makes mistakes. What defines a good commander is learning from them, recovering from them, and not repeating them.” 

“What I’m hearing from you, sir, is that you must’ve made many mistakes to be the commander you are today.” Dom’s mischief, sparking like flame within him, was reasserting itself as he grinned cheekily. 

“My wisdom is wasted on an insubordinate cur.” The severity of Lord Raoul’s remark was undercut by his chuckle was he waved Dom toward the tent flap. “Begone before I have you flogged.” 

Dom sketched an ironic salute, ducked the map Lord Raoul lobbed at his face, and departed through the tent flap, determined to move forward as if he had no doubts in Symric or himself as a commander must.


End file.
